| Okay, hey, I’m going outside
|
| You can put the plate back on the shelf
|
| And it’s cold though the snow isn’t falling
|
| The neighbor can speak for itself
|
| And the cold hard look in your eyes
|
| Is more than a line in the sand
|
| When the truth gets hard to imagine
|
| The hours get harder to stand
|
| He’s a seasick terminal passenger
|
| Singing this song to himself
|
| Till the store bought soul on his skeleton
|
| Sinks into somebody else
|
| He’s a see saw, calm in the storm
|
| A hurricane after the war
|
| When he drinks all blood you can offer
|
| He still wants more
|
| Landing planes and rumbling trains
|
| Are shaking the ground in our town again
|
| Thought it twice and kicking the ice
|
| I got turned back around and singing
|
| Everything’s gonna be fine
|
| I’m sure that we’ll both be
|
| Okay hey, I’m backing outside
|
| Just put the plate back on the shelf
|
| And it’s cold though the snow isn’t falling
|
| The temperature speaks for itself
|
| It’s a moonlit reason to quit
|
| And nobody answers the phone
|
| But if there’s still blood left in your body
|
| I’ll come back home |